


480 Minutes

by ArchOfImagine



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (Not between Bucky and Steve), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cheating, Evil Quentin Beck, Extramarital Affairs, Found Family, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentioned Steve/Quentin Beck, Minor Character Death, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Older Bucky Barnes, Pining, Steve Deserves Better, Steve and Tony are brothers, Younger Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21906202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: Steve has eight hours of peace and quiet to enjoy on the train. In between mountains of paperwork, he has four hundred and eighty minutes to continue pretending that he's okay with the life he is living.Eight hours is disrupted by a body sitting down next to him. A familiar whiskey-rough voice and blue eyes that he still had dreams about, even six years later. Bucky Barnes, the man that he cheated on his husband with. The only man he's ever loved. Still loves.And Bucky can see right through him. Read him like an open book and know that Steve still isn't happy.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 252





	480 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally created in December of 2016. It was started as an SPN story for a rarepair over there, and then shoved into my WIP folder when I lost motivation for the fandom. About a year ago I drug it back out and started tinkering with it, changing it to fit Bucky/Steve, but then I hit a few snags and my muse ran away from it again.
> 
> I _finally_ got back into it about a week ago, and have been adding words non-stop ever since. (It went from 3k to its current word count, in that time.) To say that this has been a pet project, would be putting it lightly. I loved the idea enough that I kept coming back to it over and over. 
> 
> I know that a lot of people have issues with 'cheating' in stories, and I just want to be clear that Steve's marriage in this is never real in anything but on paper, because he's forced into it by family. There would be no broken hearts, if someone found out the truth.

_Steve woke up to the feeling of light touches on his fingers. Blinking his eyes open, he stared into a gaze that he would never get tired of seeing. “Hey,” he whispered. His head was laying on Bucky’s arm, probably making his fingertips tingle, and his left hand laid on his chest, where Bucky was lightly tracing the length of each finger with his free hand._

_“Good morning.”_

_His whiskey rough voice was always the best part of waking up. A moment before Steve snuggled closer to the warmth of Bucky’s body, he felt the gold band on his left hand being twisted. It was like a knife to the heart, a sharp reminder of things he spent every day trying to forget. “Buck,” he breathed, wishing he’d move the touch away._ Please. Please, just move on. __

_“I have a meeting in an hour,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “I should shower.”_

_Steve looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes through his lashes, trying to read his thoughts, even though he probably wouldn’t like what was there. “I could join you?”_

_He placed a quick kiss on Steve’s brow. “‘Fraid not, doll.”_

_With a petulant pout and a sigh, he let Bucky pull away and slide out of the bed. Even as he curled under the sheets, annoyed at the abrupt ending to their_ thing _, he couldn’t help but sneak a peek at that bare ass as it walked across the room to where the door to the bathroom was. It was a very pleasant sight, but did nothing to help his mood, unfortunately._

* * *

With his phone pressed to his ear, Steve listened to his brother rambling on and on about the new project he was working on — as if Steve hadn’t been in the production meeting the day before — and contemplating between two separate plans for casting, going forward. Tony could talk himself hoarse if given the chance; whether someone was willing to listen or not. “Tony… Tony…” He tried to butt in, but Tony rarely took a breath when ranting. “Tony!” He raised his voice, finally causing a pause in the conversation. “I have to go. I’ve got five minutes before they start boarding my train, and I need to make a run for the bathroom.”

_Finally_ that seemed to get through to him, and Steve said a quick goodbye, before ending the call and shutting off the phone altogether. Service would be crap on the train, and he had his Kindle and a pile of work to keep him busy. Gathering his things, he moved to get in line with everyone else waiting to board, thankful that he had already used the restroom before the call from Tony. It had been a great excuse though, at least.

Twenty minutes later, he was settling down into a coach seat with a table, placing his messenger bag by his feet and pulling out a bundle of papers as he got settled. He had eight hours before he’d arrive in Vancouver, B.C., and since it was a business trip, rather than leisure, he had to finish going over the next day’s presentation, before he could relax.

Overhead, they were announcing final boarding, but his attention was already on his paperwork. When someone sat down in the seat next to his, he didn’t even bother looking up, too engrossed in figuring out how the upcoming meeting would play out. Whether they would be able to get the Vancouver film industry excited about the company’s newest project. 

“I like the glasses,” the person beside him noted.

Closing his eyes, Steve felt a chill run down his spine at the sound of that all too familiar whiskey voice. Turning, he looked over the rim of the aforementioned glasses, and felt his lips opening a bit in shock. “ _Buck._ ”

Bucky smiled, reaching out to press at the middle of the glasses until they slid back up his nose. When his hand dropped back onto his lap, he said simply, “Hey doll.”

Six fucking years and he still looked so damn good. There was the slightest hint of gray at his temples and in the scruff of his beard, a few more laugh lines around his eyes… God, he had to hold himself back to keep from closing the distance and kissing the smile off of those lips. He had never handled temptation well.

The train began to move, and after a quick glance out the window, he realized that they were essentially stuck in each other’s presence for the foreseeable future. He turned back to Bucky. “Vancouver?”

Bucky nodded, pulling a laptop out of a well-loved leather bag, and setting it up on the table in front of them. “New movie in production now. Studio needs me up there to sign off on some changes.” 

Steve bit his bottom lip and turned back to the paperwork in front of him. Therein laid the problem, didn’t it? James Barnes, owner of Barnes Entertainment, was a direct rival to his own family's company Stark & Rogers Productions. 

It was how they met, originally, back when he was twenty-one, knee-deep in his senior year at the University of Oregon, and naive to the dark side of the entertainment industry. Portland, his beloved home, was nicknamed ‘North Hollywood’ and his grandfather had been one of the original production companies to settle there, a lone entity for a generation, before he merged with Howard Stark. When Steve's family had died in a plane crash on his second birthday, the Stark's didn't hesitate to sign adoption papers. 

That year, when he came home for Christmas, he attended the Starlight Ball — an annual charity event that the Portland film industry hosted — at his adopted father’s urging, and nearly broke Bucky’s nose when he tripped over his own damn feet and swung an arm out to catch his fall.

James Barnes was a bad boy in the industry, always willing to support independent films that pushed the limit just a _little_ too far. It was well-known amongst the close-knit society of the Portland entertainment community that he was bisexual, and apparently had no intention to settle down — with a husband or a wife.

Steve immediately found him fascinating.

“What about you?” The question brought him back to the present, and he focused his attention onto the man beside him, as the train crossed the Columbia into Washington State. Bucky arched an eyebrow. “Big brother got you running productions, yet?”

They both knew the answer to that. He swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth and reached down into his bag for the bottled Starbucks frappuccino he had bought at the station. “I’m helping my uncle convince a studio to take on our newest production.”

“Let me guess,” Bucky tilted his head back and pursed his lips as if he was pondering his options, “last movie was a romantic comedy, one before that was an 80’s horror remake… about due for an action film?”

Steve snorted, shaking his head and glaring at the pile of papers in front of him. It was, indeed, an action movie. A half-assed one based on a subpar book series. Every time he brought a new concept to his brother and the rest of the Board, they shot him down and he was reminded that even though his name was on the door, he didn’t have any say in the organization.

“My offer still stands,” his travel companion stated, focused on the laptop in front of him. “It always will.”

He looked up at Bucky for a moment, before opening his coffee and taking a drink. He knew exactly which offer Bucky was talking about. It was the same offer he had gone over and over in his mind for the past six years.

* * *

_”Can you believe this utter_ bullshit _?!”_

_It probably wasn’t the greeting that Bucky was expecting. Steve had gotten a text message earlier that day saying that Bucky had some free time and providing a room number for the hotel that he had gotten. Steve had replied with a quick ‘see ya soon’ before all hell broke loose back in the real world._

_Tossing his coat down on a nearby chair, he slammed the door shut and began pacing the floor. Bucky was stretched out on the bed, hand reaching out to mute the basketball game he had apparently been watching before Hurricane Steve stormed in. In anger, he began stripping his dress shirt off, being obnoxiously rough on the buttons. He kicked off shoes that were worth more than most people’s typical ; threw aside his belt so hard it made an audible thump._

_It was a testament to how well Bucky knew him (even after a few short months) that he didn’t state the obvious — there was no way for him to know what ‘bullshit’ Steve was referring to, unless he told him._

_“It isn’t enough that I was forced to marry that prick, but now he steals_ my fucking idea _?! Yeah fucking right he came up with a movie concept so brilliant. He’s dumber than a fucking doorknob!” As he paced, completely infuriated by the things that had gone down at work, he continued tossing aside clothing items. “It’s not fair, you know?” He kicked off his suit pants, watching them fly through the air and not caring one bit about where they might land or if they might wrinkle. Fuck it. Fuck it all._

_Steve finally turned to look at Bucky, hot tears racing down his face. “It should have been my production,” he whispered. “It’s going to win a fucking Oscar with his name on it.”_

_Bucky moved to the foot of the bed and sat up, pulling Steve's small frame between his knees. His fingers brushed through a tangle of blonde hair, thumb rubbing away a tear. “It’s always going to be like this, kid,” he answered, voice soft. Leaning up, he kissed the side of his lips. “You deserve so much more.”_

* * *

That had been the first time that sex between them had been less of a frenzied need and more of a slow passion. As they laid in that hotel bed afterwards, Bucky had tickled his fingers slowly along Steve's skin and offered him everything. A real position at Barnes Entertainment. Running productions, an executive with an equal say in everything that came across the table. 

Steve had never been so close to saying yes to something in his life. It was his dream job; the perfect answer.

But in the end, he listened to the voice in the back of his head. The one that sounded an awful lot like Howard Stark. 

_You don’t deserve that._

He didn’t deserve any of it, especially not Bucky. Which is exactly why he allowed their affair to taper off not long after that moment.

Six years later, after countless hours of hard work, he still couldn’t make himself believe that he deserved Bucky. 

“How is Quentin?” Bucky asked after a few minutes of silence.

Steve felt the burning gold of his wedding band at the mention of his husband. He bit his bottom lip for a moment, staring at the table in front of him and fighting back angry tears. After a deep breath, he finally announced quietly, “He wants a baby.” When Bucky didn’t respond right away, Steve turned to look over at him. Surprisingly, Bucky had a soft smile on his face... one that _confused_ Steve. “What?”

”I was just imagining a mini-you.” He reached over, twisting some of Steve’s (“Too long to be respectable!”) hair around his fingers. “Little bouncy blonde curls and sparkling blue eyes betraying a mischievous side.”

He felt his heart swell a bit and ducked his head as his cheeks heated. It was a thought that he had written off once he accepted the fact that he would never be happy marrying a woman. Then, when Howard found out about Steve being gay, he had immediately arranged for Steve to marry the gay son of one of the company partners, whom Howard wanted to keep nearby.

”I can’t...” Steve shook his head, rubbing his thumb along the metal cap from his coffee. “It doesn’t matter. Quentin has hired a surrogate and demanded that he be the donor. He said he couldn’t stand the thought of a child with my stature and health problems.”

A work-rough thumb reached up to brush away his teardrops. “Oh, cupcake.”

Having him back — having him so close, quickly reminded Steve of all the reasons why he had broken things off. On top of not deserving him, he also couldn’t help how intense his feelings for Bucky had gotten in the end. He still had a manila envelope in a drawer in his office with drafted divorce papers. He had been so close to walking away from Quentin and Stark & Rogers Productions, but what if Bucky had gotten tired of him? There was no denying the age difference between them, and Bucky had never given any indication that he wanted anything more than just a romp in the sheets. Even if he had offered Steve a job. 

And that was another thing — if he had taken the job, would Bucky have immediately said they couldn’t be together while Steve was his employee?

Bucky moved suddenly, closing his laptop and stowing it back in his bag. “I’m going to hit up the dining car for some snacks.” He motioned towards Steve’s coffee, “Want something stronger than that?”

Taking a deep breath, Steve nodded. “Please. I’ll watch your stuff.” 

Before he stood, Bucky leaned over and kissed his cheek, “Thanks, kid.”

* * *

Over the next hour, Bucky and Steve discussed recent Hollywood movies while sipping at local microbrews. When Bucky had walked back with the beer bottles, Steve had chuckled… remembering one late night conversation about the beauty of locally brewed beer. Bucky Barnes was a bit of a brewery snob.

Steve fiddled with his bottle, a nail scratching at the label, when he finally got the nerve to ask, "Did you see _'Alexander Bryant'_?"

Bucky was relaxed back in his seat a bit, searching through a bag of gummies for ones that weren't cherry. "I did. Was invited to the premiere, actually. Very emotional biopic. Carter called me for advice on it, before moving forward."

"The writer contacted me first. Wanted to work with someone who was openly gay." He closed his eyes at the memory of taking the idea to Tony and Quentin. Tony had been interested, but Quentin's voice was louder. Not much of a shock, considering Quentin's maternal uncle was Obadiah Stane — who would shut down all of Steve's ideas, especially the ones focused on the queer community. "I sent them to Peggy. Knew it wouldn't generate as much noise, but Peggy was their best option."

"Have any of your ideas moved forward to production?"

Steve snorted. "Six. They all have Quentin's name on them."

Bucky made a _hmm_ sound around his beer bottle. When he finally put the bottle back down on the table, he set his hand out, laying it face up on the table, fingers spread. Steve smiled, laying his right hand on top of Bucky's left. Their fingers intertwined and Bucky brought Steve's hand up to kiss it.

His eyes were burning as he felt each soft brush of lips against his skin. "I miss you," he whispered, voice soft enough to keep from being heard by others on the train. Why had it always been so easy to be honest with Bucky? He couldn't talk so bravely around anyone else in his life. Tony was probably the second closest, but Tony had a lot of shit constantly going on and it was hard to keep his attention. 

“I know,” Bucky rubbed his thumb along the top of Steve’s hand. "Oh, sweetheart, do I _know._ "

A couple of tears fell. Steve used his sleeve to wipe them away and turned to stare out the window, instead of looking at Bucky.

For a long time, the only sound between them was the sound of the train on the rails. Bucky kept hold of his hand though, continued to gently rub along it while Steve let his silent tears fall.

* * *

_"I'm not… I'm not going to do this right!" Steve was shaking. "I can't— I'm gonna fuck it up. Bucky..."_

_Bucky knelt down on the floor in front of him, pushing Steve's legs apart so he could wrap his arms around Steve and pull him close. "Steve, sweetheart, it isn't a problem if you do, okay? This is you and me. The only two people who will ever know."_

_Steve felt stupid, sitting buck-ass naked on a fancy hotel bed and letting heated tears fall. He wiped them away, avoided looking at Bucky. He could hear Howard in his head, calling him a constant disappointment and mocking him for showing emotion._

__'Real men don't cry, Steven. But you've never been a real man, have you?' __

_"Stevie," Bucky whispered, laying his hand on Steve's cheek and forcing him to look back to Bucky. "Just you and me, doll. To the end of the line. Something goes wrong? We will discuss it and fix it."_

_"This is so stupid," he mumbled, getting frustrated with his own weakness. "It's just fucking and I'm being a—"_

_"Hey! We talked about the demeaning language, Steve." Bucky got upset when Steve said anything that sounded like it was Howard's influence. "I am okay with however this goes, sweetheart. Even if we try and you ultimately decide that you hate it and we have to switch some time in the middle." Bucky's hands moved down to lay on Steve's thin knees, rubbing gentle circles along his skin. "Why don't we start with a bath in that nice tub I upgraded for? Then, after our soak, I'll spread out and let you have your way with me."_

_“What if I—” Steve cut off his words and ducked his head, but Bucky simply waited. Finally, Steve whispered, “What if I hurt you?”_

_Bucky brought his right hand up and rubbed it gently along Steve’s bottom lip. “I know you would never intentionally hurt me. If something happens that doesn’t feel good, I will tell you and you will adjust. Right?” Steve nodded. “Come on, doll. I bought one of those bath bomb things that you pretend not to love.”_

_He didn’t deserve Bucky._

_He didn't._

* * *

“You know,” Bucky started, finishing off his beer. He stared at the empty bottle in his free hand, as he continued to speak. “I’ve never been the settling type. After losing my parents, I thought I’d spend the rest of my life as a solitary entity. There were relationships. Women. Men. One stupid year where I thought Natasha Romanoff was good as anything other than my best friend.” Bucky chuckled softly, and Steve turned to see him shaking his head. “I never knew anything that felt like _love._ Not… not until this little _punk_ in a too-big tuxedo, tripped over his own feet and about broke my nose.”

_Oh._ Steve gasped, felt his heart pounding loudly in his ears. “I—”

“I remember how I felt, sitting in that room and staring at my phone, realizing that you weren’t coming, that you would never be there again. That was when I knew that I had fallen too hard.”

“Bucky.”

“Do you know how hard it is to see you with him? To see that fake smile you plaster on your face in front of the cameras?” Bucky looked like _he_ wanted to cry. “Did you see _’The Straw Man’s Heart’_?”

He had, despite Quentin bitching over him wasting his time on the competition. He had sat in an empty theater in east Portland and felt terrible the entire time. Cried. Cried so goddamn hard…

“ _Bucky._ ”

“I didn’t know what I had until it was gone, Steve. And I never expected to get this chance again.” Bucky turned suddenly, bottle forgotten on the table, Steve’s hand clenched between both of his. “I love you. I did then. I do now. Fuck, I probably always will.”

“I can’t—” Steve felt a well of emotions getting lodged somewhere in his throat. He had never expected Bucky to just so bluntly admit his feelings. Had never expected Bucky to _have_ feelings. He looked back out the window, too afraid to speak in fear of his own feelings bursting free. 

_’You don’t deserve much, do you?’_ Howard whispered in his head.

For a moment, Steve imagined Bucky killing that voice. Ridding Steve of the constant feeling that he wasn’t good enough, by strangling the version of Howard that haunted his thoughts. 

What would his life be like if he actually lived for himself, instead of doing what Howard _fucking_ Stark wanted, even when the man was dead?

What would it be like to be happy?

Steve spun around, ignoring his own fucking anxiety as he pulled his hands free from Bucky’s and laid one on that slightly graying beard… while the other grabbed Bucky’s shirt and pulled him forward. He kissed Bucky for the first time in _years_ and it felt like a goddamn revelation. 

If he expected Bucky to hold back at all, he was wrong. Bucky kissed him like Steve was a waterfall in the middle of a desert. When they finally broke apart, Bucky brushed his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip, whispered a hoarse, “Stevie,” and fell right back in.

* * *

They were thirty minutes outside of Seattle, passing the time with kisses, hand holding, and quiet whispers… when Bucky squeezed his hand and turned towards Steve again. “Let’s get off the train.”

Steve frowned, slightly confused as he looked from Bucky, to the open view of the Puget Sound out the window. “What?”

Bucky nodded his head towards the doors. “In Seattle. Let’s get off the train. I’ll call Natasha. She’s already in Vancouver and can handle any meetings. So let's get off the train. Spend some time in Seattle as just Bucky and Steve. Have you been to the original Starbucks? I hear it tastes different there.”

He tried to come up with a reason why he couldn’t. “I have a meeting,” he mumbled, but even to him it sounded stupid. Obadiah had a meeting. Steve was supposed to be there to take notes because Stane hated such menial tasks but also fucked any assistant they gave him. God, was that what his life was? Being Obadiah Stane’s assistant because he was the one person Stane couldn’t fuck? His name was on the fucking building!

“Steve—” Bucky already looked like he was expecting a no.

Steve held up his left hand, tilted his head as he stared at it for a moment. 

Sliding the solid gold band off of his finger, felt like removing a fifty pound weight from his shoulders. He set the ring down on the table in front of him, and turned to smile at Bucky. “Let’s get off the train.”

* * *

Steve left his wedding ring on that table. Stepped off the train without a second thought to it. Someone would find it, probably sell it for a small amount of money that would make them happier than he had ever been during his marriage.

In his right hand, Bucky held onto the handle of his rolling suitcase, where his leather bag was attached. His left hand still held Steve’s like a lifeline.

Steve also had his suitcase rolling beside him, his backpack on with all of his forgotten paperwork. They exited King Street station and Bucky glanced around at the city, before grinning. He pulled Steve towards the rows of waiting taxi cabs and told the driver of the first available one, to take them to the Hyatt Regency.

Once they were in the back of the cab, Steve gave Bucky a _look_ and Bucky hid a sheepish grin. “It seemed stupid not to find us a reservation.”

Steve didn’t have the nerve to ask Bucky for how long. He liked the feeling of not knowing; living without a well laid plan.

When they arrived at the hotel, Bucky checked them in before asking the staff to take their bags upstairs for them. “Come on,” he said, tugging on Steve’s hand, “Let’s go get a coffee.”

They walked the fifteen minutes to Pike’s Place, hand-in-hand. Stopped only once to watch a few chunks of cheese being processed at Beecher’s. Starbucks was packed, of course, but Bucky still kept his hand in Steve’s as he snaked his way through the crowd and to the front of the line. When he ordered, he recited Steve’s coffee preference from memory, and Steve ducked his head, blush coloring his cheeks.

Bucky Barnes _loved_ him.

They carried their coffees back out into the sunshine and crossed the street to go into the market. Steve always enjoyed the atmosphere of Pike’s… it was like very few other places in the US. They wandered slowly through the vendors, before finding an empty space along some windows that overlooked the sound, and sitting down right there. 

While Steve sipped his coffee, he laid his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered, through the steam of his caramel latte.

“I know,” Bucky replied. “I know, doll.”

“Can we eat at the Space Needle tomorrow? I’ve never actually been up there.”

Bucky kissed the top of Steve’s head. “Brave of you to assume I’m going to let you out of bed tomorrow.”

* * *

When they got back to their room, they ordered room service for dinner and Steve very carefully turned off his cellphone and shoved it at the bottom of his suitcase. There would be no one calling on it that he was going to worry about. It would probably take them a few days to even realize he was missing. Because his entire life was like a blip on everyone else’s radar.

Everyone but Bucky, apparently. When their food got delivered and placed carefully on the coffee table, Bucky sat down and peeked under each silver lid, as if he was an impatient little kid. Steve watched for a moment, before shaking his head and moving to sit down next to Bucky on the couch. 

It didn’t work out, though, when an arm suddenly wrapped around his waist and drug him down onto Bucky’s lap. Bucky’s words tickled along his neck, “Sit right here with me, doll.”

The older man stopped short of actually hand feeding Steve, but Steve was suspicious about the amount of food that Bucky actually ate, considering all of the kisses that were placed along the back of his neck.

Once their plates were pushed aside, Bucky’s hands landed on Steve’s hips and slowly rotated him around so that he was suddenly facing Bucky while still on his lap. 

Those sultry blue eyes stared at his lips for a beat, before moving up to catch his gaze. “Hey,” Bucky whispered. “You’re here. Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to be back here?”

Steve's fingers traced along Bucky's face for a minute, tracing laugh lines and familiar skin, all the way up to the few grays at his temple. Bucky had been, always would be, the only man that Steve had ever loved. He knew Bucky's body as well as he knew his own. Thought back to long hours in hotel beds where he kissed every inch just to find a new spot that made Bucky cry out.

He knew that the hard cock pressing up against his ass would fill him up just right. Make him feel like he was split in half whether the pace was slow or needy. Knew that Bucky would spend literal _hours_ with his fingers and tongue stretching Steve's ass if he was ever given the chance. Anything to keep Steve happy and blissed out. 

He knew that if he asked, Bucky would roll over and happily present himself to Steve in a move that Steve's wannabe husband would never fucking _dream_ of even mentioning. Bucky loved getting fucked by Steve. Hell, he probably preferred it, judging by the way he came so easily with a cock in his ass.

Bucky Barnes was an enigma. He had a bad boy persona in Hollywood. They called him a _risk taker_ and whispered about how hard he was to work for because of his bouts of anger. But that was all tabloid fodder, because Steve had friends that had been in Bucky's movies. They called him amazing to work for. Said the only time he ever got angry was when someone was belittling or discriminating against someone else. There was no room for racism or sexism in Bucky's company. 

He was no Howard Stark, who had paid off more than a few female employees just to keep them from filing sexual assault charges against Obadiah Stane.

There, in Bucky's arms, with his hands curled in Bucky's hair, he knew that he absolutely would not go back to that world. He would call his lawyer in the morning. He would divorce not only Beck, but the company. He refused to continue to let his family's legacy and the Rogers name grace the front door.

Leaning forward, he kissed the corner of Bucky's lips. "I love you," he whispered. Speaking words that had always been a dirty secret. "Let's go to bed."

* * *

Love making seemed like a fantasy word that was used in romantic movies and trashy novels catering to middle-aged housewives. It wasn't _real._ It couldn't be.

Except that the slow and tender way that Bucky eased in and out of his body that night was nothing like Steve had ever known. There was no looming time limit to keep them distracted and worried. Hell, at some point, Steve realized that it wasn't even about _climax._ It was intimacy. Nothing more, nothing less. 

They fell asleep still mostly tangled together and when the sun peeked in through the curtains, they did it all over again. 

Round two led to the serious need for a shower, and this time Steve didn't even have to ask if he could join Bucky. Bucky wrestled his body to the edge of the bed, told him to get up on his knees, and winked before turning to face the other direction. 

It was only when Bucky held his hands up over his shoulders, that Steve laughed and realized what was happening. He curled his arms around Bucky's neck and his legs around Bucky's waist, letting himself be carried piggyback style for the first time since he was probably five.

He giggled all the way into the bathroom, and sat patiently on the counter while Bucky started the water. They were both still naked, but Steve couldn't even find it within himself to be self-conscious about his appearance. Quentin hated his looks. He probably would have never married Steve if it hadn't been presented to him as the only way he would earn a position in the company. 

As if he was reading Steve's thoughts, Bucky walked back over and stood between his legs. With Steve on the counter they were actually face-to-face for the first time. Bucky rubbed his thumb along Steve's bottom lip. "Fuck, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Steve sucked the tip of Bucky's thumb between his lips, eyes twinkling when Bucky groaned at the display. 

Maybe round three happened in the shower. Soap-slick hand wrapped around both of their cocks as they kissed beneath water.

* * *

They ate dinner at the Space Needle. It was ridiculous and expensive and they were mostly under dressed because they hadn't expected to need formal clothes on their respective business trips… but Steve loved every fucking minute of it.

It was some time after they had gotten back to the room and were splitting a pint of Ben & Jerry's from the store in the lobby, that Steve grabbed his phone and turned it on, wanting to show Bucky a picture that went with the story they were discussing. 

The thing went wild with noise, as soon as it was turned on. Message upon message. Phone calls from thirty different numbers.

He hadn't expected that much of a fallout from not using the thing. He expected Obadiah and Quentin to be angry, Tony to possibly be upset… but none of that equaled out to _thirty_ numbers calling him over and over. "What the fuck." He didn't know where to start with the whole mess.

"You okay?" Bucky asked, leaning towards him and sounding worried.

Before Steve could answer, the phone in his hand began to ring, Tony's name and face popping up on the screen. "The real world is calling," he mumbled, a second before accepting the call. "Hello?"

"Oh thank God!" Tony sounded more relieved than Steve had ever heard him. Which was more than a little disconcerting. 

"Tony? Is everything okay? I just turned my phone back on and it blew up." Bucky was still staring at him in concern, so Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker.

"Is— _is everything okay?_ He asks me if everything is okay!" Tony was quickly slipping into full manic mode. "Jesus Christ, Steve, we thought you were dead!"

He felt anger beginning to brew up in his chest. Were they so fucking dependent on his assistant skills that they couldn't imagine one fucking meeting without him? He hadn't taken a vacation since his first spring break in college! He deserved twenty-four fucking hours without everyone losing their shit! "Isn't that a little fucking extreme?" he growled. "I missed one meeting, Tony, I'm sure the world won't stop fucking turning just because I wasn't there to doodle and pretend I was taking notes! It's not like Obadiah fucking cares for my opinion."

" _Steve,_ " Tony said, voice suddenly breaking with emotions. "Obadiah is dead."

Steve froze, his anger dissipating as a cold rushed over him. Beside him, Bucky reached out, grabbing the phone carefully from Steve's shaking hand. He didn't move it away or say a word, though; simply held it steady in the same spot.

"Wha—"

"Quentin went fucking insane. Nobody had realized he flew to Vancouver, but he was at the house yesterday. The police think he was strung out on some kind of drug, because he and Obie got into a shouting match loud enough that the neighbors called the cops. But by the time they got there, Quentin had killed Obie. He barricaded himself inside the house for _five hours._ "

"Shit," Steve whispered. 

"The cops heard more gunfire so they finally broke the door in, but Quentin had already shot himself." Tony paused for a beat and then, "He's dead, Steve. He killed himself."

Suddenly Bucky wasn't just holding the phone, he was also holding Steve.

"I—"

"You weren't there, though. And there was no sign of you. Your phone was off, no one at the studio had seen you. The last person to hear from you was me. The cops… fuck, Steve, the cops thought Quentin had killed you first. Dumped your body somewhere, but they had no idea where to look. Your house was empty, people saw you get on the train—" Tony sniffled and Steve realized suddenly that his brother was crying. He hadn't seen Tony cry since Maria died… "Where are you, Steve? Where have you been?"

"Seattle," he whispered. "I got off the train in Seattle."

* * *

According to Vancouver police, if Steve had made it all the way to B.C., Quentin probably would have killed him as well. The toxicology report showed a plethora of different drugs messing up his system and interacting negatively with each other.

Steve refused to tell anyone the real reason why he had gotten off the train in Seattle. His answer remained that he simply needed a vacation from the stress of work. If anyone was suspicious about that, they didn't have the nerve to say, considering if he hadn't gotten off the train, he would be dead.

Tony looked like he wanted to ask a million times, but he never did. Instead they both focused on cleaning up the company and working through the PR damage that had erupted because of everything. 

Eight weeks passed by in the blink of an eye and Steve continued to stay put in Portland; declining any efforts from the company that were made to get him to travel back up to Vancouver. In fact, he had serious anxiety about ever traveling to the city again… which sucked, because he had loved Vancouver for a lot of years. 

Steve was sitting at the kitchen island in his condo, when the front door burst open. He glanced over, knowing already that it was Tony. Tony liked to make loud entrances, it was his thing. 

His brother's hair was a mess, and his usually pristine facial hair was a few days past typical grooming. Instead of speaking, Steve watched silently while Tony paced for a moment before finally moving over and sitting on the barstool across from him.

"We have a problem."

Steve snorted. "We have a million of those."

"Quentin had a kid."

Steve dropped the spoon that he had been using to stir his tea. He should probably be surprised, but he couldn't say that he was. Hell, he had cheated, so what why wouldn't Quentin (who was vocal about not finding Steve appealing) do the same? "Not surprised," Steve finally responded. 

"The kid's mother was just discovered dead in her car from an overdose. Same drugs that Quentin was on."

Of fucking course. "And the kid?"

"Is apparently now an orphan staying with his great aunt. He's also a fourteen year old genius."

_That_ was surprising. "Fourteen?"

That meant that the kid had happened long before Steve was in the picture. It also meant that Quentin wasn't quite as gay as Howard had made him out to be. God. _Fourteen._

Tony wasn't done. "The kid's aunt contacted me today. She wants a payoff, or she's hiring a lawyer. She never wanted a kid to take care of, especially not, as she put it, her niece's bastard child. The old woman is a peach, let me tell you."

Steve took a deep breath and focused back on his teacup. "So pay her."

"We can't."

He frowned, looking back over. "Can't? Or, won't?"

Tony shook his head. "Literally cannot. Our partners have all fled, after this mess, the board refuses to keep supporting us, and there just…" One of Tony's shoulders raised up, before falling back down. "The money is gone, Steve. I can't even write a check to cover the new production we took to Vancouver. Even if they _wanted_ it."

He wasn't quite sure what his reaction was supposed to be to that news, but judging by the way Tony flinched at the sound… it apparently wasn't supposed to be a bout of laughter. 

_Broke._ The company was _broke!_

He stopped laughing long enough to remember two years prior, when he had brought it to Tony and Quentin's attention that Obadiah's financial records didn't quite add up. He wouldn't be a bit surprised if Obie had been skimming from the company. Or that most of the partners wanted to leave now that their favorite man was dead. And _that_ just made him start laughing again. 

How fucking ironic!

"Why is this funny? Steve! We're going to lose our company!"

"Our?" He looked at Tony like he had grown another head and snorted. "Our?! Tony this company has _never_ been mine. Not one single part. Honestly if the damn name didn't have Rogers tacked onto it, I probably wouldn't even be allowed to work there! Lord knows Howard must be turning over in his grave right now just from you even daring to verbalize that any part of that place might be mine."

Tony looked like he was about to reply, before he cut off and sat back again. "Howard was a dick."

"Yup."

"Sometimes I think about the fact that most of his anger was directed at you, and realize how things would have been different if you hadn't been there. How his ire would have focused solely on me." Tony stood suddenly, moving over to the fridge and pulling out the carton of oat milk. He opened it, sniffed it, and then quickly put the lid back on and put it back in the fridge. Instead of the milk, he grabbed a bottle of kombucha and closed the fridge door. Once he was back on the stool across from Steve, he opened the drink and took a swallow, only to scrunch up his nose a second later. "That is disgusting. Why are people complaining about millennials eating ass, when fucking kombucha exists?"

Steve laughed. "Don't ask me. Bucky left that here this morning." As soon as the words left his lips, he realized what he had said and looked up, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. Tony was staring at him in shock. _Shit._ “I—”

“ _Bucky?_ ” 

“Tony—”

His brother’s eyebrows furrowed a bit and then: “Bucky _Barnes_?” Tony looked down at the drink, before his eyes went to the fridge… then around the rest of the living space of the condo. Steve wasn’t hiding, hadn’t bothered, so he knew that Bucky’s favorite boots were sitting by the door, and his worn black leather jacket was laying thrown over the sofa. There were two sets of breakfast dishes in the sink. A box of Raisin Bran (Steve’s least favorite cereal) on the counter. 

But it wasn’t just the little obvious things. The condo actually _felt_ lived in, for the first time since Steve bought it on his twenty-first birthday. It had been an investment made with the trust money he received from his parents’ estate, but even when both he and Quentin were living there, the place always felt static and showroom perfect. Quentin hated clutter or mess. Would get in a raging fit if a pair of socks got left on the floor.

Honestly, if he wasn’t already dead… the state of Steve’s messy bed would have definitely killed him. 

“Bucky,” Tony whispered to himself. “Bucky Barnes.”

As if he had been magically summoned, there was a gentle knock on the door, before it opened. Steve glanced over and smiled at the sight of Bucky walking in and setting his bag on the foyer table, reaching down to untie his tennis shoes. 

“Stevie?” Bucky called, still bent over and focused on his shoes. “You okay? You left the door unlocked. I keep telling you not to trust those idiots down in the lobby to protect…” Bucky stood up and finally turned so that he could see farther into the apartment… to where Steve sat across from Tony, smirking as he took a sip of his cold tea. “...you.”

Bucky gave him a look that clearly said _should I go?_ Steve subtly shook his head and held out his hand. Bucky walked forward without anymore hesitation and curled their fingers together as he pressed up against Steve's back. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss against Steve's cheek. 

"Huh," Tony said, watching it all unfold.

Bucky held his free hand out across the counter. "Bucky Barnes. It's a pleasure to officially meet you, Tony. Everytime I tried in the past, your uncle would find a way to stop me or interfere."

Tony shook his hand looking just a little bit shocked. But even still, he quickly brushed it off and, "Pleasure. I'm guessing you're the reason why my little brother has been so happy recently? I suspected it was just because of his douchebag husband being gone."

"Both," Steve replied. Bucky squeezed his hand. "Tony has just stopped by to inform that the company is broke. He doesn't understand why I found that funny."

As Bucky dropped Tony's hand, he moved it to lay protectively on Steve's shoulder. "Hadn't broken the news to him that you planned on leaving, huh?"

"Leaving?" Tony seemed almost more shocked by that, than Bucky's presence. "Really?"

"I was a glorified assistant, Tony. Every production that I brought to the table, someone else took credit for. My name was on the fucking door, and no one cared. So yes, I was going to leave. I should have left the last time Bucky gave me the offer.”

Bucky squeezed his shoulder gently, “Actually, I might have a new offer.” When both Steve and Tony had looked his way, Bucky continued, “If I’m not mistaken, Tony, haven’t you been sleeping with Pepper Potts?”

“I—” Tony opened his mouth in shock.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Pepper Potts is my CFO, Tony. You had to have known that.”

“It may have been mentioned.”

“She came to me two weeks ago discussing how she felt like you guys might be having some financial trouble soon. She wanted me to prepare for an influx, in case some of your projects decided to jump ship and come to us.”

Tony’s shock turned into anger. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He looked at Steve and motioned back at Bucky. “This is the kind of shit you want to leave the company for? This is—”

“I don’t want your projects, Tony.” Bucky sighed. “I told Pepper that as well. I want to help you and help Steve.” Bucky turned his eyes away from Tony and instead focused solely on Steve. “I’d like to form a partnership. Merge our companies equally. I’ve already talked with Pepper about pulling back personally, letting her take on more responsibility. I know Steve wants to do the same. So merging would allow for you and Pepper to be priority leaders, receiving input as needed or requested from us.”

“A merge.”

“A _merge._ ”

* * *

Instead of just paying off the woman who claimed to be responsible for Quentin’s son, no questions asked, Steve decided that he wanted to speak directly with both the aunt and the boy. It felt like a coward’s way out, to throw money at the problem and hope he never had to hear about it again.

So when Bucky had to go to Los Angeles for a few days to handle meetings, Steve arranged a meet up and drove out to Gresham, to the apartment where the boy and his aunt were living. 

The place left a lot to be desired, as far as homes went, but Steve tried to keep his mind open to the fact that they were doing the best they could to survive.

The aunt, Lorraine May, opened the door and immediately scrunched her nose up at his appearance. “Queer, ain’t ya?” she said, by way of greeting.

“Happily,” Steve replied. “I’m Steve Rogers. You must be Ms. May.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on in. Your bastard step-son is in his room doing _science_ , whatever the fuck that means. Did you bring a checkbook with you? I ain’t dealing with this shithead for free.”

“I not only brought a checkbook, I also brought some paperwork for you.” He moved over to the kitchen table and pushed aside a bit of the clutter to set down the stack of papers that his lawyer had drawn up. “I will meet your financial demands on one condition. You sign these papers releasing all custody of the boy to me. I’ll take over guardianship, and you’ll go back to living your life without the responsibility.”

“What?” Lorraine scrunched her nose up and looked like she wanted to spit in his face. “Why would I send my own flesh-and-blood to live with a buncha queers?”

Steve saw, just over the woman’s shoulder, the face of the boy in question, peeking out through the crack of his bedroom door. “I suppose, ma’am, that depends on how badly you would like to be a millionaire. I’m making this offer one time only. If you refuse, my lawyers are prepared to begin legal action that will make sure all of the funds go exclusively to your nephew. His well-being will be taken care of, and you will personally get nothing.”

Lorraine looked like she had steam pouring out of her ears, but she also seemed to know when she was up against the wall. She stood up, stomping a bit as she walked over to the table and looked down at the papers. “Where do I sign this shit?”

He pointed out the proper spot, and once she was done, he pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it over to her. The papers went back into his bag, and his gaze moved to the hallway. “Peter, gather your things,” he called out. When he heard shuffling from the boy’s room, he looked back at Lorraine and watched her staring at the check. It was a million, yes, but it had been pulled directly from the life insurance money that had arrived after Quentin’s death. Money that was a bit of an outrageous sum, because Steve hadn’t trusted the guy and wanted to be prepared for anything. It was a million dollars that Steve and Peter would never miss.

“Just so we’re clear, Ms. May, that will be the only check. Any attempts in the future to bribe myself, my company, or Peter, will be met with harsh legal action. If Peter ever wants to see you in the future, that will be completely up to him, and no one else. Without his consent, I expect you to keep your distance and I’m not above filing a restraining order if needed.”

She waved him off, moving over to her chair and laying the check down carefully before grabbing a lighter and a cigarette. 

A minute later, Peter stumbled out of the bedroom, holding a duffel bag and a pillow. “I’m ready,” he said, reaching up to shove wild curls out of his face.

Steve nodded and moved over to the door. “Have a good life, Ms. May,” he called out, as they left. Peter, not surprisingly, didn’t say a word to the woman.

They were in the car for fifteen minutes, already back on the freeway heading towards the city, before Peter finally asked, “You were married to my dad?”

“Unfortunately.” He glanced over quickly and smiled, before focusing on the road. “You can call me Steve, by the way. I know this is all a bit of a mess and probably super weird for you, but when I found out your story, I knew that you deserved better than whatever you were going to get at your aunt’s house.”

“I used to think living with my mom was bad, with the drugs and the men, but at least she generally left me alone and didn’t scream at me. Aunt May… I was already trying to decide how I could support myself and run away.”

“You’re a smart kid. You would have figured something out.”

* * *

Technically it was summer break, so Peter was out of school, which meant finding the kid something to keep him occupied. Bucky suggested giving him an easy job at the studio, to keep him busy… which was a good idea in theory, but Steve wasn’t sure if any of them were prepared for how that ended up.

“Where is he?” Bucky asked, moving into Steve’s office. “Still down there?” He moved around the desk and leaned down to kiss Steve’s temple.

“Yup. Five hours and still going strong.”

“Heard any explosions this time?” Bucky turned, sitting down on the edge of Steve’s desk. 

“I have not, but Happy is down there keeping an eye on things for me.” Steve pushed his chair back and rolled it a few inches to the left so that he was sitting between Bucky’s knees. He leaned forward, resting his head on his boyfriend’s stomach. “I love you. Please steal me away for a vacation soon so that I have an excuse to stop handling expense reports.”

Fingers danced carefully through his hair. “How about I tell Pepper to find you another task?”

“Mmm,” he mumbled, eyes drifting shut as he enjoyed the impromptu head massage. “I would gladly accept the job of sitting at the boss’ feet all day.”

Bucky chuckled, flicking his ear lightly. “If only, if only. Oh, by the way, I made us reservations for dinner. I figured that it probably wouldn’t be much of a hassle to convince the kid to spend the evening with Uncle Tony.”

“Pepper is going to hate you.”

“Probably, but I’m the boss for a reason. Also, it is the anniversary of the first time I met my best guy, and I can’t let that go uncelebrated.”

Steve leaned back so that he could look up and meet Bucky’s gaze. “It is?”

Bucky’s hands moved to cup his chin and he whispered, “It is,” before claiming his lips in a kiss.

What started as chaste and sweet, quickly turned a bit heated… and Steve’s hands had started creeping up Bucky’s thighs, when suddenly the office door burst open.

“Oh! Ew! Gross! Can’t you put a sock on the door handle or something?”

They broke apart with a laugh. Steve leaned his forehead back against Bucky’s stomach. “What do you want, Peter?”

“You guys aren’t going to do this kind of shit when the baby gets here, are you? Because if so, we’re going to need a serious family discussion about boundaries…”

Bucky’s stomach bounced as he laughed again. “How do you think babies are made?”

“Listen, I don’t have to be a genius to know that babies aren’t made with two dicks.” Peter moved around to the other end of Steve’s desk and copied Bucky by pulling himself up onto it. Steve turned his head and looked over at the kid. Peter’s brown hair was sticking up in a million directions, and he looked like he had grease smudged in at least five different spots on his face.

“Been having fun with your uncle?”

“We got the mechanics finally completed, so now we’re going to start working on the AI system.”

No one had really seen it coming, when Tony and Peter met and suddenly started discussing robotics. Tony, apparently, spent his spare time working in a lab in the basement of the building. He had always wanted to take a career in engineering, but Howard and Obadiah had forced him into the family business. With most of the new company work being handled by Steve, Bucky, and Pepper… Tony had gotten lost in his lab and drawn Peter in as well. Steve was beginning to think that they might need to move out of the filmmaking business and into the robot making business.

“You need a shower,” Steve mused.

“I know. Tony and I are about to head out to his house and start working on the coding there. He said that you guys were doing some kind of date night, so I was his problem for the evening. I just wanted to come up and say goodbye before we left.”

“Did you hear that, Stevie?” Bucky said, voice a bit quiet and wonder filled, “We might be doing okay with this parenting thing after all.”

There were footsteps at the doorway, followed by a female voice saying, “Raising a genius teenager is a bit different from raising a baby.”

Steve perked up immediately, the way he always did when Natasha was nearby. He looked around Bucky to see her standing on the other side of his desk… looking absolutely _radiant_. “There’s my girl!”

“We’ve lost him,” Peter said.

“Yup,” Bucky agreed. “We mean nothing, when she’s in the room.”

Ignoring them, Steve stood up from his chair and walked around his desk to sit down in one of the comfortable seats meant for clients. He looked up to catch Nat’s gaze and get a simple nod of permission, before he reached out his hand and laid it gently on Natasha’s stomach. “Hello, princess.”

At some point in the past year, Steve and Bucky had began talking in the middle of the night about how much they really would love to have a child of their own. When Bucky had mentioned it to Natasha, his best friend, she had volunteered to be their surrogate, no questions asked. Like everything that Natasha did, there would be no discussing it, once she had made up her mind. 

Six months later and they were just a few months away from being able to hold their little girl. 

“That’s how Tony looks when he sees a piece of cake.”

Steve looked up at Peter and pointed a stern finger, even if he had never had a reason to be _truly_ mad at the boy. “Behave.”

Bucky got down from the desk and moved over to stand beside Natasha and Steve. “Okay Stevie, I’m sure Nat has reached her limit of petting for the day. Also it’s almost five, and you’re the one that made her swear to be off her feet and relaxing by six every day.”

Steve’s eyes shot over to the clock to confirm the time, before he leaned in and kissed Natasha’s swollen stomach. “Be good for Aunty Nat, little one.” When he looked back up at Natasha, there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. 

“I came to let you know I was heading home, and that the Kellar meeting has been rescheduled for next monday.” Nat reached out and laid her hand on Steve’s cheek for a moment, before tapping it lightly. “Enjoy your evening, Steven. Make sure to bring me a piece of the tiramisu tomorrow.”

“Gladly.”

They watched as she poked Bucky in the stomach, before walking out of the office in a fashion that no one on earth was allowed to call a waddle. Once she was gone, Steve looked back up at Peter. “Go on, kid. Go destroy your uncle’s house. But you have _got_ to shower and sleep tonight at some point. Deal?”

Peter nodded and bounded off the desk, hurrying to the door. “Bye guys! See you tomorrow.”

Once they were alone again, Steve stood up and wrapped himself around Bucky. “I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky squeezed him just a little bit tighter. “Love me enough to let me fuck you on this desk?”

Steve snorted, because it wasn’t the first time that Bucky had made that proposition. Unfortunately Steve’s office was _all_ windows, and he knew he would never be brave enough to do something like that without worrying about people seeing. “Maybe next time, muffin.”

“Tease.”

“That’s what you get when you date someone younger.” He stood on the tips of his toes so he could kiss the side of Bucky’s mouth. “Let’s get out of here, daddy.”

“You need a spanking.”

Steve laughed as he closed up his laptop and tucked it in his shoulder bag, before grabbing his coat. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, James.”

Bucky grabbed his own jacket and Steve’s hand, as they stepped out into the hallway. “I never make promises I don’t intend to keep.” He leaned down and whispered near Steve’s ear, “That’s why I promise to marry you.”


End file.
